


good morning

by myn_x



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Coming Untouched, Creampie, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Dry Orgasm, Emotional Sex, Established Relationship, Face-Sitting, Hand Jobs, Intercrural Sex, LMAO HOW MANY TAGS IS THIS GONNA HAVE, Lowkey Power Bottom Oikawa, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, This is me being the disappointment my mother always said I'd be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2017-03-20
Packaged: 2018-10-07 14:26:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10362465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myn_x/pseuds/myn_x
Summary: Oikawa leans closer and whispers the words Ushijima’s looking for, the secret shared between them. "Good morning, daddy."





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ailarii](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ailarii/gifts).



> For my dear friend Abby's birthday <3 I have nothing to offer other than smut (˵¯͒⌄¯͒˵) the other thing, _ahem_ , is still coming along, so this is a sort of compromise. 
> 
> I didn't think too hard about where Oikawa works...just imagine he's some kind of healthcare specialist or ceo who has to spend a few days at a time away from home from time to time uwu
> 
> Prior to these events, Oikawa was away on one of these trips.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!!
> 
> [w/ minor edits as of 22 March 2017]

Oikawa wakes to the feel of teeth scraping against his neck and large hands rubbing circles into his hip. He turns over with a smile to nuzzle into the warm body next to him, noticing that the windows are still dark, the barest hint of light cutting through the shadows. Curse this man and his infernal habit of waking up before dawn.

But Oikawa isn’t exactly complaining. They’re still naked from the night before, when Ushijima fucked him into the mattress with all the reckless abandon of a man drunk on his own love. The longer Oikawa spends away from Ushijima because of work, the more brooding and restless Ushijima is once he returns -- at least until he finds solace in the space between Oikawa’s thighs.   

Ushijima cups Oikawa’s face. “Good morning.”

“It’s not morning yet, Ushiwaka,” Oikawa quips, leaning forward to lick a stripe from the other’s chin to his nose. He nips his bottom lip, too, for good measure.

Frowning slightly, Ushijima moves a hand to Oikawa’s waist and squeezes tightly, fingers digging into his flesh in just the way Oikawa likes. He’s predictable, and Oikawa knows what to do to push his buttons and draw these reactions out of him. Oikawa’s sigh of content is cut off by the press of Ushijima’s tongue, which he allows with an open-mouthed moan.

Ushijima is a messy, impatient kisser and Oikawa loves the way he drinks him up like he misses him even now. Ushijima sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, alternating between teasing it with his teeth and glossing it over with his tongue.

His hand ghosts over Oikawa’s hip and down his thigh before coming back up to trace the round of his ass before disappearing between his legs. He brushes against his balls and he tenses, then there’s a finger trailing up and down his perineum, and his cock twitches with each swipe.

Oikawa gasps when Ushijima stops, barely touching his rim, and then there are two fingers massaging his hole, and he knows, has always known, that even though he’s got Ushijima wrapped around him like a vine, Ushijima has a hold over him that he doesn’t want to break. He’s hopeless.  

Writhing against Ushijima’s hand, he half-moans, half-whispers, “Fine, ah, fine, I get it, uhnn, good morning, Toshi!”

“Say it.”

“I did!” Oikawa whines. “Good morn _ing_!” The last syllable dissolves into a breathy moan, for Ushijima is inside him up to his second knuckle, another finger back at massaging the soft skin leading to his balls.

“ _Say it_ ,” Ushijima repeats, but this time it’s a low growl just below his ear. Ushijima bites into his neck where it meets his shoulder, tongue laving over the mark he leaves behind, and Oikawa arches his back to press against him, but Ushijima maintains the sliver of space between them. He is not ready to let Oikawa taste relief.

So Oikawa leans closer and whispers the words Ushijima’s looking for, the secret shared between them. “Good morning, daddy.”

Ushijima groans and chases Oikawa’s words with a messy kiss before turning away to grab the bottle of lube from where he’d thrown it on the bedside table. He refocuses his attention on Oikawa with another kiss, tongue licking into his mouth, then he nudges him. “Roll over.”

His voice is husky with want, and Oikawa heeds the order, flipping to his other side. Immediately, Ushijima kisses up his neck and blows cool air behind his ear. A small whimper escapes Oikawa’s throat when Ushijima’s hand slips between his legs, this time from the back.

“I’m going to thigh-fuck you. Is that okay?”  

“Of course,” Oikawa says, punctuated by a roll of his hips. His ass brushes against Ushijima’s cock, and his shivers when he feels the wetness of precome against his flesh. “ _Daddy_.”

The hands disappear and Oikawa hears the pop of a cap, then there’s the cold feeling of lube. Ushijima slicks the backs of his legs and lifts his thigh, slathering more lube on skin still sensitive from their previous round of fucking. Ushijima has always paid special attention to Oikawa’s thighs, and last night was no exception. They’re already branded with hickeys and bite marks, and the pain and pleasure of it makes Oikawa purr.

Ushijima sets his leg back down. “Make sure you squeeze for me, Tooru.”

Before Oikawa can reply he feels the head of Ushijima’s cock pressing against his legs, and then he’s sliding in and out between them, a possessive hand on his hip moving him back and forth in time with his thrusts that say  _mine mine mine_. Ushijima mouths at Oikawa’s neck, licking and sucking and nipping at him.

The sticky, wet glide of Ushijima’s cock between his legs is enough to make Oikawa’s erection throb and drip precome from where it bobs untouched, tapping against his stomach. He doesn’t touch himself, knows he can’t because -- because all he has to do is ask.

Instead he moves on his own, matching Ushijima’s pace, and Ushijima’s now-free hand sweeps over Oikawa’s chest before he presses two fingers against his lips.

Oikawa takes them in gladly, rolling his tongue as if his lips were wrapped around Ushijima’s cock instead. He’s shamelessly noisy as he sucks on his fingers and takes them as far back as he can go, and his lips tighten to create suction; Ushijima takes the hint and pushes in and out, his hips not breaking rhythm. Spit gathers in Oikawa’s mouth, spilling out of the corners, and Ushijima removes his finger with a soft, wet sound, a trail of saliva tethering him to Oikawa’s bottom lip.

It snaps when Ushijima moves to wrap his wet hand around Oikawa. But then he doesn’t move, his hips slowing to languid strokes.

Oikawa knows what he’s waiting for; he wants him to ask, and to ask correctly. Oikawa isn’t in the business of ruining his own pleasure, not even to get on Ushijima’s nerves, and Ushijima isn’t one to withhold anything from Oikawa, so he obliges him. “Daddy, I want you to make me come, please.”

“Yes, Tooru.” Ushijima’s words are strained. “ _I love you so much_.”

The words vibrate along Oikawa’s skin and burrow deep, etching themselves onto his bones, right next to countless others. Ushijima is open and exposed from missing Oikawa. He too despises that soul-deep ache, that heart-crushing longing from being away from Ushijima, even though they talk and message and manage to make it work. He doesn’t feel broken anymore because of Ushijima, he _needs_ him, and he throws himself into erasing the days they don’t share, relishing every movement that brings their bodies closer together.

Oikawa feels his own desperation mirrored in Ushijima. Angling his hips so that his cock slides against Oikawa’s balls with every thrust, Ushijima palms Oikawa’s length and they both hiss. Oikawa lifts a leg up to position himself more comfortably, and once he brings it back down, he squeezes around Ushijima, the roll of his hips making him groan.

“Fuck, Tooru, you’re my tight little slut, aren’t you?” He flicks of his thumb over the the head of Oikawa’s cock, circling it to spread the precome beading at the tip.

Oikawa loves every sound that escapes Ushijima’s mouth, especially the dirty talk -- each slip of Ushijima’s control makes him feel high or drunk or both, and words come spilling out.

“Yes, _fuck me_ , daddy, yes, harder, just like that, just like that, your cock feels so g _ood_ ~”

And the louder Oikawa gets the faster Ushijima moves, both the snap of his hips and the slide of his hand, and it isn’t long before Oikawa comes with a yell, and then Ushijima’s hips stutter once, twice, thrice, and he presses himself flush against Oikawa with his own climax, plastering Oikawa’s legs with more stickiness. He bites Oikawa’s shoulder to smother his moan, but there’s nothing he can do to hide the way his breath comes out in shaky pants.

Oikawa's abdomen is painted with come, and Ushijima pulls back, wasting no time in going to the bathroom and coming back with a warm, damp towel to wipe Oikawa down.

Before he can do so, though, Oikawa drags a finger down his thigh, traces it all the way up the curve of his hip and through his own mess, and then brings it to his lips, sucking it clean with a little pop. Ushijima stands transfixed, and Oikawa’s eyes glow once he realizes Ushijima is still almost fully hard. That explains just the towel, then, instead of a shower.

Ushijima swallows and moves forward, capturing Oikawa’s lips in a kiss as he mops the mess off his stomach and legs. It's futile -- he gives up and climbs on top of Oikawa, but Oikawa pushes back, moving so that their positions are reversed: Ushijima on his back, with Oikawa straddling him.

In perfect contentedness, Ushijima settles his hands on Oikawa’s hips, rubbing them over curve of his backside. His thumbs find the twin indentations on his back, and Oikawa hums.

He’s hovering over Ushijima and he just looks and looks and looks into those intense olive eyes.

Ushijima stares back. “What?”

“You’re pretty, and I like you,” Oikawa answers with a smirk.

“‘Pretty’? And just ‘like’?” Ushijima’s tone is playful; his expression is soft.

“I like you _a lot_ ,” Oikawa amends, as if that should somehow appease him. He can’t help but tease Ushijima, who’s come to accept Oikawa’s provocations, sometimes firing right back with the same small smile adorning his lips right now.

“It didn’t seem like just ‘a lot’ both times I’ve fucked you since you’ve returned to me,” Ushijima says, pinning him down with a pointed look. “As a matter of fact, it’s never seemed that way.”

Oikawa muses. “I did skip the like part, didn’t I? Went from hating you to sleeping in your bed.”

“Why don’t you just say it?”

Oikawa sits back. He runs his hands over Ushijima’s chest and stomach. They’ve had this conversation before.

It’s the one satisfaction he can’t seem to give the man without feeling like he’s cheapening the words every time he mutters them into his lips or skin. He prefers to show his feelings, and he _knows_ it comes across, but _still_.

Oikawa feigns ignorance, cocking his head to the side. “Say what?”

“Tooru.”

“Wakatoshi.”

“ _Tooru_.”  

Oikawa looks away. “You know why I rarely say it.”

“Your stubbornness is but one of the infinite number of things I love about you,” Ushijima says, softer now. “But sometimes I want to hear it, from you. I love the way you say each word, and I love that they’re only for me to hear and to keep. Because it was never just you sleeping in my bed -- it has always been more than just that.”

It always absolutely baffles Oikawa, that Ushijima would be the one to be more expressive about his feelings, and especially so fucking eloquently. His words bring a flush to his face, and he resists the urge to hide behind his hands or smother himself with a pillow (one of _their_ pillows), if only to escape this overwhelming feeling.

Oikawa leans back down so that he’s millimeters away from kissing Ushijima. “I -- I love you, Wakatoshi.”

Ushijima brushes his thumbs over Oikawa’s bright pink cheeks. His face breaks into one of those rare crooked smiles, and Oikawa thinks about saying he loves him more in addition to showing it, if only to see Ushijima smile like that more often.

“And I, you.”

They’ve been together for ages, yet Oikawa still feels embarrassment at the intimate little bubble they’ve created. He’s far from sated, so he asks, “How about some breakfast in bed?”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I think you’ll like -- no, I think you’ll love this.”

 

It’s not much of a surprise, really, that this is what Oikawa meant. Right after fucking him up against a wall, this is probably Ushijima’s second favorite position, this breakfast in bed position, which entails Oikawa perched on his face, toes digging and curling into the sheets.

With the first cool press of Ushijima’s tongue, Oikawa arches his back with a breathy, half-stifled moan. Ushijima’s hands are splayed on his cheeks to spread them as he licks over his rim and into him with a hungry growl, then he skims his palms up to cup Oikawa’s ass and knead his soft, perky flesh. A light slap makes Oikawa whimper.

Ushijima grazes his tongue over Oikawa’s hole, taking his rim gently between his teeth. Oikawa’s legs quiver and he squeezes them against Ushijima’s chest before spreading them as far as he can to give the other as much access as possible.

Little shocks of ecstasy dance up Oikawa’s spine as Ushijima takes turns blowing air over him and piercing him with his tongue, and it’s enough to make Oikawa reach behind and hold Ushijima’s face to his ass as he grinds down over his hot, open mouth.

Ushijima’s tongue works at him, catching at his walls and teasing him just inside; the only sounds in their room is his obscene sucking sounds and appreciative groans, accompanied by Oikawa’s shuddered breaths. He’s warm and solid inside him, but Oikawa craves more contact, wants him deeper, so he rocks down, fucking himself on Ushijima’s writhing tongue. Ushijima licks a path inside him that sends a rush of pleasure straight to his balls, and Oikawa feels that tightness overtaking him again, even though neither he nor Ushijima have touched his cock.

Ushijima senses that he’s close -- he knows all of Oikawa’s tells, the tremors that roll over him, the catches in his moans, the deep arch of his back and the splay of his legs --  and his fingers slide in next to the wet muscle, and Oikawa throws his head back, teeth dragging at his bottom lip. Cries of _yesyesyesyes, daddy, right there,_ yeah _, fuck_ spill from his lips as Ushijima stretches and opens him up with his tongue and fingers.

“Toshi, Toshi, oh god, _Toshiiii_!” He sobs Ushijima’s name, and Ushijima uses his free hand to twine his fingers with Oikawa’s in a silent promise.

 _I've got you, Tooru_. 

The way Ushijima’s cock twitches when his voice breaks on Ushijima’s name is what sends Oikawa over the edge. He comes hard, hips twitching against either side of Ushijima’s face as pearly strings shoot from his cock and splatter against Ushijima’s chest and stomach. It’s not a lot, but it’s enough to pool and smear between them as he bends to capture Ushijima’s length with his mouth, using the tip to wet his lips with precome before swallowing him down in one possessive, noisy gulp.

“Fuck! _Tooru_ ,” Ushijima rumbles, breath hissing between his teeth. He bucks up into Oikawa's mouth, his fingers still pumping in and out of him.

They're hypersensitive to each other's touch; Ushijima is finally free to gasp at the soft, slippery feel of Oikawa's lips around him, and Oikawa's own moans send vibrations down Ushijima's shaft.

He doesn’t fuck into his mouth like he wants him to, but he isn’t in a position to complain. Oikawa whines around his cock when Ushijima hooks his fingers inside him, all thought fleeing his brain to make space for the feeling of Ushijima absolutely ravishing him, breaking him apart over and over again, but he doesn’t have to worry because he also makes him whole again, as many times as it takes.

Tears make their way down his cheeks, the slow drag of Ushijima's fingers as they curl and scissor making it too hard to think, to keep going. He keeps the tip in his mouth, tongue lolling over his slit, but he’s boneless, and he flops down on Ushijima, who shifts so that his dick pops free from Oikawa's mouth.

Then Ushijima re-positions him so that he's straddling him once again. Their skin is tacky with his come, but neither really care.

“Use me, daddy,” Oikawa whispers, but he’s too far gone to notice the determined set of Ushijima’s jaw, or the heated look in his eyes that’s equal parts ravenous and tender. “Are you gonna fuck me, Toshi? You should fuck me.”

“You want my cock, Tooru?” Ushijima asks, and he teases him, lines up himself up but only rubs the tip up and down the cleft of his ass and against his twitching hole.

“Mmmm yes, Toshi, _please_.” Oikawa rolls his hips, blissed out enough that he doesn’t mind a little begging. He’s vaguely aware of the click of Ushijima opening the lube again.

He doesn’t end up _really_ begging because Ushijima slams into him without warning, and Oikawa yelps, Ushijima’s cock gliding over every overstimulated nerve of his walls. He moves underneath him, at first holding Oikawa by the hips to keep him still, and then slamming him down to meet his thrusts.

Oikawa’s legs tremble from stretching them open as wide as he can, and Ushijima angles into him just right, glancing against his prostate with each snap of his hips. He crushes Oikawa to his chest, pressing his forehead into his shoulder, Oikawa’s sweaty hair sticking to both their skin. He smoothes one hand down to the small of Oikawa’s back to deepen the arch there, but then his rhythm slows from sharp, deep strokes to small, jerky thrusts. He shifts backward and raises them both up so that he’s sitting against the headboard with Oikawa cradled in his arms.  

Oikawa brackets Ushijima’s waist with his thighs. Pressing their foreheads together, he gathers enough energy to start riding him, and he raises and rolls his hips, rocking up and down on his cock from tip to base --

“Tooru, slow down, I’m gonna --” Ushijima tries to still his movements, but Oikawa fights against his hands, hips shaking in his grip, his walls clenching and spasming around Ushijima’s length -- “ _Fuck_!”

Oikawa laughs as Ushijima thrusts up into him with his orgasm, high on the feel of Ushijima in his arms and inside him, filling him up. He grinds down while Ushijima’s hips stutter against him, and his hands flutter around his neglected cock, his groin tight with the onset of his third orgasm.  “Wakatoshi, please --”

Ushijima spits into his hand and wraps his fingers around Oikawa, and Oikawa’s sigh of relief jumps up to a whine once Ushijima starts pumping his cock. Combined with the full feeling in his ass, it doesn’t take Oikawa long to come again, but he’d run dry with the last two, so he thrusts into Ushijima’s hand and down onto his cock, pressing his lips to Ushijima’s to whimper into his mouth as the climax wracks through him.

He lets out another airy laugh once they’re both still and breathing heavily, skin sticky and hot everywhere they’re connected. Neither are keen on moving, but Ushijima does pull out, hand bracing Oikawa’s back as he slides out of him.

His release spills out of Oikawa -- at first it trickles, and then it’s a steady warmth that wets his thighs and drips onto Ushjima’s lap, and Oikawa thinks that if he hadn’t come three times already he’d surely come again. He’s sensitive as is, and he shudders, his lips tracing the line of Ushijima’s jaw.

“Tooru, just so you know, every morning I get to wake up to you is a good morning.”

Oikawa stills, and if he weren’t already fully flushed, he would be. Even so, his face burns. “You know I appreciate compliments, but you shouldn’t say such embarrassing things, Wakatoshi.”

Ushijima laughs, long and low, and Oikawa loves him more than anything else in the universe.

“You were just full of my come, Tooru. How is that any less embarrassing?”

Oikawa has never said so, but he loves that Ushijima’s bluntness carried over into the bedroom. He can’t resist these hands, that voice, those eyes. “Touché,” he says, licking Ushijima’s lips. Of course, he can’t resist those either.

As far as mornings went, this had been a pretty good one.  


**Author's Note:**

> [here is the ref i used to write the rimming scene](http://68.media.tumblr.com/78a55d76efb229ddcdd8015283bb784b/tumblr_mx9vreFx8b1t3ihx4o1_500.gif) **it's porn and thus highly nsfw** , so take caution! i had this thing open for _hours_ kekeke ₍₍ (ง˵¯͒⌄¯͒˵)ว ⁾⁾
> 
> [tumblr](http://ohmykokuroo.tumblr.com) || [other tumblr](http://zeppellii.tumblr.com) || [twitter](https://twitter.com/lovedeluxxxe)


End file.
